A Dragonfly in Paradise
by Aeanagwen
Summary: What we dislike in others is often a reflection of what we dislike in ourselves. From death's door, there are many roads to take. Terazuma Hajime follows his path. Chapter Three uploaded!
1. Prologue

And so I embark upon another multi-chapter attempt. ;_; Forgive me, Summoning, Sacrifices, all the other things I've been intending to expand... 

Terazuma fic, set to span his death and his first year in Meifu. Below is the prologue. Anyone who read/remembers Idee Fixe, Terazuma's death turned out to be something different than what was in that fic, but I THINK the rest of it will probably follow that basic outline. 

---------- 

There was a storm coming. The lurking clouds were full and ripe with the promise of rain, although, in early March, it would more likely be sleet falling. The hunched figure making his way beneath the eves of the buildings took little notice. 

Terazuma liked storms. The lightning and thunder stirred something wild inside, and there was little he enjoyed more than watching them from a vantage where he could feel the wind snarling and snapping in his hair. 

The streets along the Motoyasu river's bank were for the most part deserted, the street cars' last runs finished hours ago, shops and stores closed up for the night. He could hear the flow of the river, the waters of the high tide lapping hungrily at the walls of the canal. Just him, the streetlights, the river, and the shadows. He preferred it that way; the quiet made it made it easier to think, to analyze. He'd had more than one case come together after a second recollection on the walk from the station. The cold that drew hazed, smoky clouds of his breath didn't bother him; his coat was thick and warm, and he was accustomed to the chill. 

It was like that, walking home from a late night of paperwork and thinking of nothing very much apart from his grievous lack of cigarettes, that he glanced up and saw the girl standing at the top of the railing, staring down into the depths below. 

"Hey," he hailed her, starting over, hoping already that what was going on was anything other than what it looked like. "Be careful up there; you could..." 

Her head snapped around and he caught the briefest glimpse of frightened brown eyes before she jolted into movement, clambering over the cold bars. 

"Hey!" he shouted, breaking into a run, making a wild grab for the back of her jacket as her hand, knuckles white and tense, loosed its grip on the rail. For a moment, he felt her weight pulling at his clenched fingers, then she began to thrash about like a trussed bird and her arms slipped free of the sleeves. He barely had time to see the backward glance she cast him through unruly black hair before she hit the river's surface. 

He cursed and, running along the bank, struggled out of his coat, tossing it aside as he seized the bar and vaulted over it, diving into the choppy waters. 

The cold struck him like shattering glass. Rising with a gasp driven out of him as if he'd been punched, he swam after the girl, stealing a breath of air before plunging beneath the surface. Straining to see in the darkness, fingertips seeking the touch of fabric, he finally found her slim arm. Seizing it, he swam upwards and, breaking to the top again, looked around wildly for one of the safety ladders leading back up to the street. 

The girl stirred, raising her head as he wrapped his arm around her waist. For a moment, her gaze was blank, uncomprehending, then her eyes went wide. 

"Let go!" The rushing water muffled her thin voice, the force of the current sweeping them downstream overpowering the desperate rhythm of her fists on his chest. "Let me go!" 

"The hell I will," he snarled back, struggling to the side and trying to cling to the smooth cement incline, cursing as his shoes slipped against the slicks of algae beneath the water. Arm splayed against the wall, his short nails torn slowly across as the river alternately thrust him against it and sucked him back, he kicked his shoes off, feeling them slip free and begin to sink. The girl writhed against him, nails digging into his forearm as she struggled to loose his locked grip. 

"Hold still," he growled, tightening his arm around her. 

"No!" she protested, still squirming. "It's just supposed to be me! Only me!" 

He snapped, "It's not going to be either of us. I'm not going to let you kill yourself when you're too young and stupid to know any better." 

"You don't know anything about it!" Her tone was shrill and high; she was starting to panic. 

"I know that if you don't shut up and hold still, we're _both_ going to die." 

"You shouldn't--you shouldn't have come after me." Her voice broke, her struggling stilling. She was starting to shiver, Terazuma noticed grimly. 

"Too late now," he responded harshly. "Now hold on around my neck so I can use both hands." 

Meekly, she obeyed, winding her arms around his shoulders and nestling gingerly against his back. He brought his hand up, clutching against the wall, fingers barely visible in the dim light angling down from the lights on the street too far above. He tried to sight down the river and saw only the water's black expanses. 

"Hold on," he repeated to her. "There's no ladder here; we're going to have to go further downstream a little ways, all right?" 

He felt her nod and loosed his clench against the wall, keeping his fingers in as close as he could manage as the current took them and shoved them onward. Where was it? Where _was _it? How far apart _were _the damn things? 

Fingers catching on a break in the cement, he forced himself to pull to a stop, ignoring the numbness that was beginning to set in and choke his movements. He felt for a ladder briefly and found nothing. 

"Hey," he said to the girl still clinging around his neck. "I'm not finding a ladder. We're going to need to call for help, all right?" 

She nodded again, lifting her head and letting out a low yell. Terazuma fought to keep from rolling his eyes and redoubled his grip. 

"It's going to have to be louder than that." 

The scream that followed split the night. He cringed but nodded. "That's right. Keep that up; I'm gonna see if I can climb up a little ways here." 

With her voice ringing in his ears, he pressed tightly to the angled wall, numb fingers straining to pull himself upward. He progressed all of a few inches before slipping back down. 

The girl's cries ceased as they slid back into the water. "No one's coming," she whispered in his ear, barely audible, the cold driving tremors through her pleading tones. "What do we do?" 

"Keep trying," he gritted. "In the meantime, can you hold on here if I try to swim ahead and find a ladder?" 

Her arms clenched around his neck, the wet fabric of their shirts offering only a thin veil of cloth between their bodies. He could feel her pulse racing as she clung to him. 

"So that's a no. Hold on, then, and don't stop yelling." He let go of the wall and the water greedily pulled them onward, scraping his hand across the cement, rough enough to scratch and draw blood. The river turned slightly and the illumination cast by the streetlights fell away, the clouds overhead blotting out even the barest amounts of moonlight. 

It was harder to stop the next time; his fingers fumbled and slipped in the current's force several times before they jerked to a stop that made his muscles scream protest. He gripped at the wall with feet that barely registered the sensation, and heard the girl whisper something. 

"What?" he asked. "Louder; I can't hear you." 

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Her voice rose, strangled, and he felt with a sudden shock the tears against the nape of his neck, sharp and hot against the deadening cold. 

"Hey, hey, calm down, calm down," he protested, carefully reaching back to touch her sodden hair. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out when we get out, all right?" 

"I don't want to die," she whimpered. 

"You're not going to die," he said firmly, trying to make himself believe it, to stem his own rising fear. "You'll be fine." 

"But no one's coming." 

"So we'll just wait 'til morning." He knew as he said it that his grip wouldn't hold out that long but he'd drown before he admitted it aloud. 

"But your hands..." 

He forced light-heartedness into his reply. "Just a little scraped up. We'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me letting go, 'cause I don't think I could pry my hands loose again if I wanted to. Everything's gonna be all right. Don't worry." 

She was quiet for a moment, then asked softly, "What's your name?" 

"Me? Terazuma Hajime, Hiroshima police force." 

"A policeman... You wouldn't--wouldn't take a bribe, would you?" The words carried far too much urgency. 

He blinked. "What? Of course not, and anyone who tried to give me one would get a quick black eye." 

She clung to him tighter. "I'm sorry. Of course you wouldn't." 

"So what's your name? If we're going to be here all night, we should know that much about each other." 

"Kuniko..." 

Terazuma grinned. "Kuniko, right. See, all we have to do is keep this up and morning'll come in no time." 

_No time at all. Just another five hours until sunrise. Shit._

"Do--do you want to know why I jumped?" she faltered. 

"No," he said promptly. "There'll be plenty of time for that once we're out." She didn't answer, pressing her face to his shoulder. "Come on; stick with me. What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" 

"I-ice cream?" 

"Sure. I just like chocolate myself; nothing f-fancy." In his mind, he cursed the teeth-chattering stammer quavering into both their voices. 

"But it's only February..." 

"Yeah, and? You got different favorites for every month?" 

"I--I guess... Butterscotch..." She was sounding weaker. He shifted position slightly, trying to jostle her. 

"I just like that as a topping. Now you ask one," he prompted. 

She was quiet again, then spoke into his ear. "Are you mad at me?" 

"Of course not," he answered, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm not mad at all. There's nothing to be mad about. We'll be fine. Come on, just stay with me." 

She didn't answer. 

"Stay with me," he repeated more desperately. "Come on. Come _on;_ don't stop talking. Come on!" 

Her breath against his neck was too light; her body shivered, but she made no response. 

"Help!" He tipped his head up, shouting with all the volume he could muster. "Is there anyone there? Someone help!" 

His voice echoed unanswered along the walls.__

_Dammit...!_

He thrust his arm out again, searching for the ladder's thin bars. Only bare stone met his advances, made erratic and clumsy by desperation, as he inched along the wall. He stopped, breathing hard, dropping his forehead against the stone, and trying to think past the fear and enroaching weariness.__

_Come on... Stay with it...___

_Shit... Come on...___

_Stay with me...___

_Stay..._

A little while later, he didn't look up as the sleet broke free of the clouds and began to fall. 

A few minutes after that, he didn't notice his hand slip free. 

And in the last moments of his life, he didn't feel the water tug him from the wall and pull him under and away. 

--------------- 

The title is a reference to what Terazuma's always calling Tsuzuki. Evil Asian Genius made an interesting point once that Terazuma may be calling Tsuzuki lazy and useless, but dragonflies are hunters, so he may also be alluding to that. And often what we dislike in others is a reflection of what we dislike in ourselves, so... I'm not sure it really fits the planned tone of the story, though, so if anyone else has any title suggestions, feel free to toss 'em up. If I change it, I'll be sure to notify people a chapter or two in advance. 

Feedback? Please? 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter one, ready for reading. I have a lot of time to work on this, since my job consists mainly of sitting around waiting for people to come look at my merchandise. Hopefully, then, chapter two will be done similarly quickly. 

* * *

The pain was fading. He knew what it meant. 

**_You're dying._**

_No. No, I can't. I have a job to do._

**_You were never much good at it._**

_That doesn't matter! I've helped a few people; even if it's only one person, it's still one more than it would have been without me!_

**_There's no one in particular._**

_There's everyone! I'm a policeman! I protect the _city_, and everyone in it!_

**_It's a thankless job._**

_I'm not doing it for the thanks. I won't die..._

**_What do you have to live for?_**

_I don't worry about stupid crap like that! I have this city! That's all I need!_

And the darkness took him. 

--- 

_The city itself. Unusual._

**_But not entirely unknown._**

_More often, it's a specific person or cause._

**_He has a cause, of a sort. It is unusual, but not invalid._**

_His city has made him proud. If it is itself his strength, he would not fare well away from it._

**_He would not necessarily have to. Chuugoku's Gokancho requires another shinigami, does it not?_**

_It does, my lord._

**_His tie is proven. What of his capacity for magic?_**

_Present, but nothing to remark on. He will have a special ability if he is awakened in Meifu, however._

**_As do so many. Very well; the two requirements are met. Begin the tests._**

_Yes, my lord._

--- 

Terazuma glared at the man standing at the end of the alley, the illegal gun in his hands planted squarely at the temple of the girl he held in front of him. 

"Go on. Get out of here! I swear I'll shoot her if you don't back up!" The man's voice was pitched with growing tones of panic. The girl pulled tearfully at his arms, terrified eyes locked on Terazuma's. 

"You don't want to do that," Terazuma drawled, stalling for time as his mind raced. "Police'll catch up to you eventually, and you really don't want a murder charge on your head." 

"I said get back!" 

He sighed. "I really didn't want to have to do this," he said reluctantly. Before the man had time to respond, he'd drawn his gun in a flash and pressed it to his own head. 

"W-what are you doing?!" The man's arms tightened uncertainly around his hostage. 

"It's worth my head if I let you walk off with her. I could just save myself the trouble now, unless you wanna have some pity and let the girl go." 

"Fuck off!" 

"That's what I thought." A sigh, a lightning quick shift in the angle of the gun, and he pulled the trigger. 

The man looked around frantically in the echoing of the gunshot, the ring of shattering glass in a window, and the scream from the girl he held. The blur of movement drew his eye back to the ground and he saw, too late, that the policeman has dropped only into a crouch and was halfway into a barreling leap at him. 

The hairs on the back of his neck still standing on end from the bullet that had narrowly missed them, Terazuma watched as the girl tore away when he tackled the man and grabbed for the gun. 

--- 

**_A most unexpected turn of events._**

_You sound amused, my lord._

**_It was an amusing decision. To bow his head and shoot out the window._**

_It was quite a risk. There were many things that could have gone wrong._

**_But the point is that they did not. And it seems that he is also more observant than most--the window was very small._**

_Some might call it foolhardy._

**_I prefer unorthodox. We know what we need to know. Carry on._**

--- 

"Terazuma-san, you are being most unreasonable." 

"Shove it, rich boy," Terazuma growled, one hand on his gun, the other pulling out handcuffs. 

"Really, sir officer, what proof do you have against me for fraud and bribery?" 

"Don't forget arranging a murder. Now turn around and stop talking." 

The young man didn't move. A calculating gleam had entered his eyes. "You're very dedicated, Terazuma-san," he said casually. "You know, my uncle is a good friend of the superintendent general. A word from him either way could see you promoted or thrown out onto the streets." 

Terazuma went very still for a moment, then looked up, eyes narrow. "You're saying you could get me promoted?" 

"The higher ranking officers need to know how to pick their battles, and when to retreat. Prove that you've the wisdom and, yes, a promotion might be..." 

The young businessman's words were cut off by the roundhouse punch delivered squarely to his jaw. He staggered back, falling against his desk, scattering pens and sending papers fluttering. 

"Resisting arrest by means of a bribe. Oh, I'll make _special _note of that, you pretentious little snot. The general's a good man, and you can bet your overdressed ass he'll hear all about this." 

--- 

**_He did, I believe, very much desire a promotion?_**

_Indeed. It would seem his devotion to duty was stronger._

**_Or his temper simply that quick. He didn't give it much thought. But the point is there. Continue._**

--- 

_You have to reach the other encampment with news of the enemy's new forces. You're our fastest runner, Terazuma. Our lives rely on your swiftness._

Terazuma sped his pace, the bundle of dispatched tucked inside his shirt bumping against his chest. The ache in his side from running had gradually become a constant stab of pain with every stride, a knifing pain drowning out the burning exhaustion in his legs. The sound of his footfalls was a dim rumble in his ears, and his heartbeat drummed against his ribs, his breath tearing at his throat. 

He kept running. Another few miles yet. Nothing he couldn't managed, he reassured himself mentally, the thought dim, wordless against the force and toll of exertion. 

He barely heard the gunshot that tore into his shoulder. Stumbling, he shot a panicked look over his shoulder, searching in vain for the gunman. Not having the breath to curse, he clutched at the wound and searched desperately for cover. But no, he couldn't just go to ground and wait; every second brought the enemy closer. Bedamn his shoulder. He had to keep moving. 

The blood pumping between his fingers was harder to ignore, but in the windswept silence, he heard only his ragged breathing. Has the unseen soldier run out of bullets? A warning shot? Something meant only to hinder him? 

_Keep running._

It was getting harder; his legs kept trying to fold when they weren't supposed to, the burning in his abdomen hurt worse than the bullet wound. 

_Keep running_. 

He was losing strength, and the dip in the ground caught him unprepared. He tumbled headlong, the heavy landing drawing an involuntary cry from his throat. Trembling with exertion, he pushed himself to his knees, then staggered to his feet, setting to running again, pain flaying mercilessly at his legs. 

The second bullet ripped into his lower leg, agony blossoming full and red across his vision. Wild-eyed, he looked around as he stumbled, struggling to stay upright. 

No one. There was no one! Who was firing?! 

A third punctured his side, and he fell again. 

Half-sobbing with the pain, he clenched his hands in the low grass, feeling the missives grate against the fresh wound, and began to crawl forward, light-headed, the low hills reeling before him. 

_I have to keep going. I have to..._

His arms buckled and he snarled defiance to the empty skies, forcing himself forward another few inches before the blackness rushed forth and swallowed him. 

--- 

_Most impressive. Many never even reach the first bullet._

**_Less endurance than it is sheer stubbornness, I think, but the end result is much the same Full marks. Move on._**

--- 

For a moment, he felt her weight pulling at his clenched fingers, then she began to thrash about like a trussed bird and her arms slipped free of the sleeves. He barely had time to see the backward glance she cast him through unruly black hair before she hit the river's surface. 

He cursed and, running along the bank, struggled out of his coat. 

_Wait... There aren't any ladders along this section... And who's going to be out this late at night?_

He slowed, hesitating. How far downstream was the next ladder? He couldn't remember. Torn, he stared at the young form borne swiftly down the river. 

_She was trying to kill herself; am I going to get killed without it meaning anything?_

He saw her pale face cast in the yellowed arcs from the streetlights for a moment before the waters closed over her head. Cursing his hesitation, he broke into a sprint again, vaulting the railing. 

The cold struck him like shattering glass. 

--- 

_It gave him pause._

**_Perhaps, but he still leapt for her._**

_Yes._

**_It will suffice. Continue._**

--- 

Her tears burned against his neck. 

"Hajime! Hajime, you have to help me!" 

His arms wrapped around her of their own volition while he stared numbly at the corpse of the noblewoman behind her, the spill of dark hair, the pooling blood from the small lady's dagger driven into her side. 

"What have you done?" He spoke the words without recognizing them as his own. 

"Please!" she cried, looking up at him. Her hair, piled high off her head, had begun to slip loose from the ornate pins meant to hold it in place; strands of it framed her white face, tangling at her neck. The ends of her court robes were stained with blood; it soaked the rich embroidery along the sleeves. Stitched birds along the front flew in a red-splotched sky. 

"Hajime! Please! You're a guard at the gate; we can escape, take a ship. We'll just disappear together." 

He stared at her, trying to quell the scream rising inside. Looking up at his blank, shocked expression, she clenched her hands in the fabric of his shirt and buried her face in his chest, her slim body torn with weeping. 

"Why?" he whispered, his voice gone hollow with horror as loyalties warred, snarling together, knotting in his stomach. 

"I had to," she choked. "She was going to tell everyone about us!" 

The words slammed into him like a clap of thunder, a thousand swords drummed on steel. Being with her, that had not been such a conflict, but _this..._

"Hajime! I love you, please, let's flee, tonight..." 

Love for her clamored inside him, but duty to his oaths strangled the words in his throat. The punishment for this would be her death. How could he allow that? But how could he break oath? What could he do...? 

"I'm so sorry..." He held her close and whispered the words into her hair, turning his face away as her head jerked up, his name torn from her lips. Arms tight around her, he drew a dagger, forcing himself to ignore her struggles and frantic please. Striking the back of her head neatly with the hilt, he sank with her to the floor, cradling her body. 

_It's because I was with you at all that this happened. Half the blame is mine. I will give myself up with you, and if it is possible for my death to buy your life, then you will live._

--- 

_Most would have fled with her._

**_Which is why most do not become shinigami. But of those who choose otherwise, most turn her in alone or take the blame solely upon themselves._**

_He knows, then, how to place blame when he himself is partially at fault._

**_Admirable, often lacking, and more often overlooked. He has passed._**

_Your word and seal, my lord. Shall I inform Konoe that Area Four has a new trainee?_

**_See to it._**

_Yes, Enma-sama.___

* * *

Thanks to EAG for the proofread, and anyone who has given or will give me feedback. EAG asked if any of the tests were real things that happened to him, and the answer is no--all of the tests were made-up scenarios created to test his reaction to one thing or another. 


	3. Chapter Two

Thanks to EAG for the preread. To Meritite--yes, you're right; there are several of these tests that certain shinigami probably wouldn't have done all that well on. The tests, however (aside from the verification of a tie to the real world and magic capacity), are given an individual 'score' and then an overall one--the cumulative number is the only one required to be at a certain level, so if you do poorly on one section, but briliiantly on another, you may still become a shinigami. 

Aside from that, it says in the manga that Hisoka didn't have to take the tests. Not everyone does; I'd wager Tsuzuki didn't either. ^_^ Special cases get exempted. 

Everyone, thank you for the feedback! 

* * *

Terazuma opened his eyes to a ceiling that was far whiter than it had any right to be. He shut his eyes with a wince and an incoherently grumbled protest. 

"Ah, awake, I see," said a voice off to his side. 

His eyes blinked open and he stared upwards for a long moment as the night's events filtered back. Sitting up with a jolt, he looked around, gaze passing over the man who'd spoken, searching instead for the girl. 

He occupied a generic hospital bed in a generic hospital room notable only for its distinct lack of respirators, IV racks, or any other such typical surgical machines. Sunlight trespassed cheerfully into the room through a row of windows in one wall, and none of the other infirmary beds were taken, their white sheets neat and undisturbed on the mattresses. 

"Where's the girl I was with?!" he demanded, turning his attention back to the waiting man. He broke off at the faintly amused, patient look the man was giving him. He wore a simple lab coat and looked in his mid to late thirties, with calm brown eyes and short, sandy blond hair--a foreigner? 

"You won't find her here," the man said, his smile fading to a look of quiet sympathy. 

"Well, where is she, then?" Terazuma pressed, trying to ignore the expression. 

"She's passed on," the doctor responded quietly. "She no longer lives in this world." 

"She died?" Terazuma stared at him as the words sank home, striking him hard with the memory of roaring water and her broken voice. 

_I don't want to die._

He looked down, hands clenching in the sheets, biting back a curse, feeling the sting of bitter regret. 

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that she did," the man next to him said, then paused. "And in a sense, so did you." 

Startled out of his grief, Terazuma blinked, looking back up at him. "What?" 

"It was the middle of the night," the man chided gently. "How could you have been rescued, but not her, before you drowned?" 

"What are you talking about?" Terazuma asked, suddenly angry. "I'm right here, right? What the hell are you trying to pull?" 

"I'm not trying to pull anything, Terazuma-kun. You're in the infirmary of the science and medical wing of Enmacho, in Meifu. You're Shokan division's newest employee, tested and approved by Enmadaioh to be a caseworker for the fourth division, Gokancho." 

The younger man gaped at him. "Enma?" he echoed incredulously. "Meifu? What the--How do you know my name?!" 

"We keep very extensive records here, Terazuma Hajime-kun. But I can see you're the type who'll need something more concrete." He rose, looking at the young man glaring up at him. "Will you follow me?" 

Suspiciously, Terazuma pushed aside the covers, noting as he did so that he still wore his uniform, but his coat hadn't been recovered. He stood carefully, expecting to fall, or at least stumble from lingering effects from hypothermia. 

Seeing his surprised expression, the doctor gave him a slight smile. "We don't generally carry damage with us. Your physical body is back in Chijou, if it hasn't been cremated yet. You're something different now." 

"Different how?" Terazuma asked cautiously, following the man over to a low table, where he pulled open a drawer and considered an array of medical scalpels. 

"I'll demonstrate." He lifted one, the light slicing a quicksilver gleam down the blade as he set it to his wrist and, over Terazuma's yelp of protest, slashed it downward. The blood welled up quickly, streaming down his skin. He lifted his other hand to still Terazuma's words, then cupped it beneath his wrist, nodding at the wound. 

Terazuma glanced at it, aghast, then did a doubletake and stared. 

It was healing. Before his shocked eyes, the gash closed and, as the doctor wiped the blood off against his other arm, vanished completely. 

"If you need further proof," the blond said wryly, "you can follow me over to the sink before I drip blood all over my floor." 

Terazuma obeyed, mind working furiously to dig up an explanation, but uncovering nothing. The doctor set the blade down on pristine white marble and, turning on the water, began to rinse off his hands. Terazuma watched for a few moments, then moved to snap up the scalpel, feeling slightly foolish when the man failed to even lift his glance from his task. 

Sensing that he was being left to his own devices for a moment, Terazuma carefully pressed the tip of the razor to his palm. It was no fake blade; he felt the sharp prick against his skin. Frustrated, he pushed harder, watching the blood seep out along the edge of the cut. Raising it, he stared hard at his hand. It wasn't even a deep enough gouge for the blood to spill free; as he watched, it sank back into his skin, the puncture becoming a pale white scar, then melting into nothing. 

"I-I'm--dead?" His voice sounded strange to his own ears, too hollow, too uncertain, far too vulnerable. 

The doctor pulled the scalpel from Terazuma's unresisting hands and set to rinsing the red sheen from it. 

"In a sense." 

Emotion and reaction returned with the words. 

"How the fuck am I supposed to be dead, '_in a sense'?!_" Terazuma exploded, yearning to seize the man and shake the still complacency out of him. 

"You have a temper," the blond observed, turning off the water and drying the blade carefully on his shirt. "You'll have to learn to curb that, with Seiko-san. 

"Listen to me," he continued, turning to face the young man fuming beside him. "I don't like to think of this existence as death. Why should I? We may heal inhumanly fast, but we do still bleed. I'm sure you can attest right now that we suffer, and I assure you that we can feel joy. We eat, sleep, work, play, worry about bills, have the occasional vacation, have friends and rivals, all of that. We go through all the motions of living, so who is to say that we do not?" 

He touched a hand lightly to Terazuma's shoulder as the young man stared at him. 

"You caseworkers have picked up the nickname 'shinigami'. I hate the term, and you won't ever hear me use it. There's no such thing as a true death in this or any world, Terazuma-kun. If you die in one world, you wake in another. Always. You workers could as easily be called gods of life as you are gods of death, because that's what you do--bring lost and wandering souls properly into their next plane of existence. Do you understand?" 

Terazuma couldn't find the words. He was dead. He was _dead. _What was there to say to that? 

"You'll have to come to terms with it in your own time, I know. Everyone copes differently. But in the meantime, you haven't even asked my name." 

The new shinigami stared at him, numb, and heard himself slowly ask, "So what's your name?" 

The doctor smiled warmly. "I'm called Chiko. And Meifu is a beautiful place, so why don't I show you around?" 

And it was beautiful, Terazuma had to admit, insofar as his minimal appreciation for aesthetics was any judge. Like the real world, but with differences ranging from mildly disturbing (the lack of cars stemming from the ability to fly), deeply unsettling (the ever-blooming sakura framing the roads and pathways), to downright bizarre (the chicken librarians). 

His companion was easy-going and good-natured, and didn't seem to possess a last name, at least not that he would admit to. From what Terazuma understood, life as a case-worker in training offered little improvement from his previous existence--same low pay, same barely standard living arrangements, same long hours--but then, it didn't seem he'd be particularly worse off, either. 

It was on the way downstairs from the small set of rooms that would serve as his apartment--as yet with spartan furnishings and bare of decoration--that it occurred to Terazuma to ask about cigarettes. 

"You smoke?" Chiko queried when it was mentioned to him. 

Terazuma scowled. "What about it? Don't tell me you don't have cigarettes here." 

"We don't have _lung cancer _here," his guide responded dryly, "which in your case will be a distinct advantage." Chuckling at the glower Terazuma shot him, he waved a placating hand. "Yes, we have cigarettes. You'll find that the corner store at the end of your street carries them, I believe." 

For a moment, Terazuma considered the likelihood of ghosts on tobacco farms, but put aside the mental image of zombie cows pulling plows when he noticed that they'd headed away from the store, back towards the looming office building of Juohcho. 

"No smoking in the office," Chiko rebuked placidly in response to Terazuma's complaint. "Not everyone likes breathing in noxious fumes, Terazuma-kun. You can buy your cigarettes on your way home." 

"With what money?" the new shinigami challenged. 

'Tatsumi will give you an allowance to last until your first paycheck," Chiko returned, unruffled, as they walked down the streets. "An admittedly stingy one, mind you, but enough to make ends meet." 

"Who's Tatsumi?" 

"The division head's secretary and general accountant. He's far better at it than Konoe-kacho was, but he is tight-fisted. You'll get to know him and the others well enough, if Seiko-san doesn't drive you off with training." 

The doctor smiled at his young companion's expression. "It shouldn't be as hard as all that. Seiko-san is a stickler for the rulebook, but that's good for a new worker." 

Terazuma snorted, glaring in the other direction. The last thing he wanted right now was to be passed around an office building playing social chutes and ladders. What he wanted was to turn around, buy several packs of cigarettes, and spend the next week staring out of his window brooding. With rain, he decided. Rain would be a plus. And thunder, if he had his way. 

A gust of wind blew through his hair, scattering a few sakura petals before his feet. 

There was in this world, Terazuma decided, entirely too much pink. 

Chiko led the way back to the office, through the bustling lower floor, waving in a companionable way at the people they passed on the way to the elevator. Terazuma fixedly ignored the curious looks and tried to convince himself that he was being paranoid. 

The building's interior was beautifully constructed and modern, stylish and sleek. The elevator was quick and silent, well tended to. Terazuma wondered if the janitors made more money than him. The doors opened on the third floor and they stepped out, Chiko with a confident stride, Terazuma trailing behind, pondering the possibility of lax posture getting him dismissed and rankling for a change of clothes. 

"You won't have to meet everyone at once," Chiko commented, taking up the reins of the abandoned conversation. "It's once in a blue moon that the office is actually full. For now, we'll just go introduce you to Konoe and Seiko, then you can go home and get settled in." 

Terazuma didn't answer, a lapse Chiko chose to overlook as he knocked politely on the office head's door. A muffled invitation carried through the wood, prompting the two to step inside. The office looked nicer than the police office rooms Terazuma had seen, with more attention devoted to form. At the desk--unusually neat, to Terazuma's clutter familiarized eyes--sat an aging man with a craggy face. At his shoulder stood a taciturn man with possibly the bluest eyes Terazuma had ever seen sizing him up behind spare, slim glasses. The tight-fisted secretary, Terazuma would bet the life he no longer had. 

"Konoe-kacho," Chiko said, closing the door behind his companion. "This is Terazuma Hajime, newly assigned to Gokanchu." 

"Chiko, thank you," the old man acknowledged. "Terazuma-kun, hello and welcome to Enmacho. I'm sure you'll settle in quickly. Tatsumi, would you go and find Seiko?" 

The brunette gave the chief a slight bow, nodded to Chiko and Terazuma, and slipped out. 

There followed several minutes of job description and overview. Terazuma remained silent through most of it, trying not to look as rebellious as he felt, although something in the knowing quirk of Konoe's lips suggested the attempt wasn't entirely successful. 

"If you have any questions, just ask around," Konoe concluded, then, as the knock on the door sounded, "although I'll be surprised if you have a question Seiko can't answer." 

The door opened and Terazuma turned to look at his new teacher. 

_This is going to be a nightmare._

The man was immaculately dressed and carrying a file folder in one hand, with short black hair combed perfectly into place and a level stare from the shelter of square rimmed glasses. Everything about him screamed 'by the book,' an attitude Terazuma had never been able to master. 

"Terazuma-kun," Konoe announced as the two stared at each other, "this is your senior partner, Higuchi Seiko. He'll show you around the office more." 

Terazuma broke the stare and turned back to look at the head for a moment before dropping a slightly begrudging bow, then returning his attention to his teacher, who didn't look particularly impressed. 

"Terazuma-kun, this way, please," Seiko said crisply, heading out of the office after nodding to Konoe. As Terazuma passed him, Chiko gave him a brief pat on the shoulder and an encouraging smile. 

Gods. 

Seiko shot him an over the shoulder look as they walked down the hall, passing a few closed doors before emerging into a more central room with a copy machine, fax machine, a long line of desks along two walls, and all the other sorts of things Terazuma would imagine to find in a business office. An open door lead off to what he assumed from the look of it to be a break room. 

"Assignments come through from Konoe-kacho or on here," Seiko began, nodding at the fax machine. "We're sent the cases the regular workers can't solve or handle with their own resources. The two of us are assigned to the cases for Gokanchu." 

"Where _is _that?" Terazuma asked, exasperated. 

Seiko raised an eyebrow at him. "They haven't told you? Area 4 Gokancho looks over the Chuugoku district. You are from Hiroshima, I believe?" 

Chuugoku. Hiroshima. It shocked him. It seemed such a small compensation, but the effect was immeasurable. 

"Yeah." He straightened, looking intently, almost hungrily, at his assigned teacher. "And we take care of things there?" 

The man shrugged, eyeing him. "When cases are sent to us, yes. There aren't any at the moment, which will give me more time to train you." 

Terazuma set his shoulders, nodding. 

Seiko gave him a slight, wry smile. "We won't do much today. You'll need time to settle in." He gestured around the office as he arrowed towards a row of cabinets set in another wall. "Get paperwork drawn up at the desks; some research can be done from the computers, but the library has more extensive records if they're needed. Case reports are turned in to Tatsumi-san." 

Listening closely, Terazuma followed him, feeling more resolved. 

That was until Seiko handed him the rulebook. 

He stared at it. 

"_This _is the rulebook?" 

"Yes. What of it?" 

"You're kidding! It's the size of an encyclopedia!" 

"So be it. I expect you to look through some of it tonight." 

_Gods._

Much later, after getting a miserly amount of money from Tatsumi and extensive instructions on the men's dress code and when he was expected back at the office the next afternoon from Seiko, Terazuma walked into the corner store Chiko had directed him to, lugging the rulebook and intent on cigarettes. 

The shopkeeper, a friendly old woman who didn't seem much deterred by his ill temper, rang them up for him. 

"You're new, aren't you?" she asked as he counted out change. When he nodded brusquely, she smiled. "Those are free, then." 

He blinked, looking up at her. "What?" 

"We don't get newcomers so often that I'll be bankrupted by giving them their first purchase free," she responded cheerfully, brushing a loose strand of grey hair behind her ear. "Is there anything else you want?" 

He hesitated, torn between pride and the fondness for having three meals each day. 

"I insist," she said warmly, bustling around the corner with far more ease than any woman her apparent age should by rights posses. "Or else I won't let you shop here. What's your name?" 

"Terazuma Hajime," he answered somewhat reluctantly as she busied herself loading down several bags with groceries. 

"Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Kozuru Mizuna." 

Before long, he was climbing the stairs to his apartment, cursing under his breath at the weight of the rulebook, which he promptly abandoned on the table in favor of putting up groceries and making supper. Finishing that, he dragged a chair over to the window and plopped down with the book and meal. 

_If this thing has cute illustrations, I'm gonna shoot something, _he vowed to himself, opening the cover. 

As it turned out, it didn't. It read like an electronics manual, only without the diagrams to keep the eye interested. Terazuma abandoned it in short order and went to wash his dishes instead, concentrating on them ferociously because it seemed better than thinking too much about the situation he'd been landed in without any say in the matter. 

But still... At least it was Hiroshima. He'd be doing similar things, just a bit less often. He hadn't done all that much in life. 

_We go through all the motions of living, so who is to say that we do not?_

Terazuma looked down at the soapy water swirling down the drain, then rinsed off his hands and went to get ready for bed. 

Who, indeed? Perhaps the ones going through the motions. 

--- 

Side Story One: Pledge 

Chiko watched Terazuma leave after Seiko and smiled to himself. With any luck, they'd be good for each other. Nodding to Konoe and Tatsumi, he slipped out and headed back towards the medical wing. 

_He smiles at his wife, brushing back her dark hair as he leans down to kiss her, cradling the back of her neck. She reaches down to press his other hand to her stomach, although the pulse of life within is still too young, too small to detect. And with all his heart, he blesses his missionary father for coming here to this exotic country, allowing him to meet this wonderful, beautiful woman, who miraculously returns his love, and who will soon be bearing his child.___

Seiko had been by himself for too long, Chiko thought. In any case, a little passion for the work never hurt anyone. If Terazuma was anything, he was certainly passionate, although the doctor very much doubted that the young policeman would share his partner's slavish devotion to the letter of the rulebook's law. 

Well, time would tell. Certainly they wouldn't lack for that.__

_He feels the laughter rising out of him as he lifts his son and the infant smiles at him, tiny, chinadoll hands reaching to touch his face. He settles down next to his wife, handing her the boy. She shifts positions to lay in his lap, and his arms gently fold around her in response. He smiles lovingly, leaning down to nuzzle at her sweat-dampened hair, and whispers that, although he cannot give them all the world as he desires, he can and does give all of himself, a promise of devotion to the grave and beyond._

No one lacked for time in Meifu. That Japanese ideal that he'd learned so long ago--_aware; _that which is most beautiful is that which is fleeting--was a thing of another world. Appearances endured. And emotions. 

And vows. 

_He holds her close, stroking her hair and whispering his reassurances that the village they inhabit is quiet and that surely the purgings of which rumor speaks will not reach here. She nods, accepting the words, ot trying to. As he embraces her, he prays desperately to his father's God, or any that will listen, that his words will remain truth.___

Yes, he reflected as he slipped into his office--a quiet affair, decorated mainly by abundant sunlight--promises could endure forever here, whispered in the boughs of the sakura long, long after the objects of the words were ashes spread to the wind. Opening his window, he sat down on the frame, closing his eyes and listening to the silvery music of the windchimes he'd hung outside. 

_He hears the heavy pounding on the door and knows that it won't hold for long. His wife is sobbing, pleading with him, and his son--bless the brave boy--is hanging back, frightened but struggling not to show it, dry-eyed. With infinite care, knowing that if he clings too tightly, he'll never be able to release her, he embraces his love and whispers to her that this is what he promised her--his life, his death, all of his existence-- and that, for their son's sake, she must go, but to never doubt his love for her, and to know that, though it take all of eternity, he will find her again. And he kisses her, and his son, and then they are gone in the sound of wood splintering under blows. He turns to face his fate, resolved to delay them for all the time that he can.___

_And then her scream cleaves his soul, and he spins. As he is struck from behind, the last thing he hears is the cry of her name on his lips.___

Sometimes, Chiko thought, he could hear her laughter in the sounds of those chimes. 

_He wakes in a strange land of ever-blooming flowers. For a time, he does the jobs they give him in exchange for the rare times he is permitted to look in on his wife and child, who have after all survived, imprisoned but unharmed, and he endures the long years, and the terrible desolate loneliness.___

_And then something starts to happen. He realizes one day that he cares for those around him; that, because of the occasions when his aid is needed, his heart has begun to open. In spite of the grief, he has begun to live again.___

_It terrifies him. When his wife dies, he delays his decision, watching his son grow. By the time the boy also has passed on, he's made his decision.___

Chiko. It meant pledge. They'd assured him when he'd asked that both his wife and son understood his heart, and would wait however long it took. So he'd taken up the new name and devoted his existence to helping those called shinigami, as doctor, councilor, friend. 

_He is a patient man.___

Until the time came wherein he felt at peace, content to move on without fear of being needed, he could wait. 

* * *

For the curious, Chiko's father was one of the Portugese who came over spreading the word of Christianity beginning in 1549, an attempt which, over the rest of the century and into the beginning of the next went slowly downhill. From EAG, info can be found here: www.baobab.or.jp/~stranger/mypage/chrinjap.htm 

These side stories will happen whenever a character in a chapter has a major enough role to get one. Seiko will probably get the next one, either next chapter or the one after. 

Next chapter--meeting more random people around the office, the beginning of training, and whatever else of importance I decide to throw in. 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three! More new faces, but some references to some familiar ones, although no appearances by them yet. A LOT of discussion about the nature of shinigami magic and budget. Thanks to EAG for the preread, and everyone else for the feedback; I love you all. 

* * *

There was, Terazuma was convinced, some manner of conspiracy operating to make new shinigami late for their first day of work. The furnishings of his bedroom roundly failed to include any manner of clock; told to be in the office for a moderate 12:30 (police work had had far more arduous hours), it had been past 11:45 when he'd finally dragged himself out of bed, taken one look at the wall clock in the living room, and proceeded to mentally frame every curse he knew as he wolfed down a rather scorched breakfast (toast wasn't meant to have sear marks, he was sure) while scrambling to gather the key and money he'd been given. 

Ten minutes after he'd gotten up, he was harassing people on the streets for the way to the nearest--cheap!--clothing store. Half an hour later, he was hurrying home to throw the new clothes unceremoniously on a chair, cursing saleswomen who wouldn't let him leave with the first vaguely appropriately sized things he'd laid eyes on. 

Fifteen minutes after _that, _he was within eyesight of the Juohcho office buildings, huffing and panting fit to burst a lung, clothes rumpled and slightly damp with sweat. When the elevator doors opened on the third floor, he came nose to nose with a highly impatient looking Seiko. His subsequent jump back and startled yelp were, he felt, extremely undignified. 

"You're twenty minutes late _and _a mess, Terazuma-kun," Seiko said sharply. "We give new shinigami the morning to tend to clothes and lunch, not to drag in nearly half an hour late." 

"Maybe if you'd give us a little thing called an alarm clock, it wouldn't happen," Terazuma snapped, disheveled and out of sorts. 

"Buy one on your way home tonight," Seiko responded, giving him a stern look, "and don't let this happen again tomorrow." Before Terazuma could reply with the sarcastic comment salting his tongue, the man continued. "Come on; we'll get you clocked in and then get started with lessons. Did you look at the rulebook at all last night?" The tone was skepticism distilled into voice. 

Rankling, the younger shinigami followed him. "Yes," he said rebelliously, "as a matter of fact, I did." 

"Really? How much about shinigami abilities did you find out, then?" 

"Not much," grumbled Terazuma, who hadn't made it past the introductory chapter regarding Shokan Division's place in the general scheme of Juohcho. 

"We'll start with flight, then. Perhaps it will get you to work more quickly." 

As he'd seen airborne shinigami on his mad flight to work but been too harried to waste time trying to emulate them as he'd have liked, the new worker forbore to complain, clocking in as Seiko instructed. 

The two of them then headed outside, into one of the gardens around the back, Terazuma wondering if flight came naturally to shinigami, or if it required a jump start. Finding an area that satisfied him--a koi pond, a few willow trees, and some very old stone benches--Seiko gestured for him to sit down. The young man obeyed, eyeing the pond in the suspicion that the water was meant to break his fall. 

"Now," Seiko began in a distinctly lecture hall tone. "You were selected from the normal flow of souls because you fit two basic requirements--a strong tie to the living world, Chijou, and a capacity for magic. After that, you were tested by Enma-daioh and judged capable of becoming a shinigami under his jurisdiction." 

Terazuma frowned. "I don't remember any tests," he said skeptically. "And I_ know _I don't have any magic." 

"No one remembers the tests, Terazuma-kun," the man responded patiently. "They are administered in a plane between life and death. Little is known about such realms because memories about them are never retained. We theorize that the soul cannot actually record events which transpire, and may or may not even retain its memories upon its arrival. 

"As for magic," he continued, warming to his subject, "in most cases, the ability is latent in life. The freedom of the soul and the essence of magic distilled in Meifu are believed to awaken it and any special abilities a person may have." 

"What kind of special abilities?" he partner asked, intent. 

Seiko shrugged. "Any number of things. If there's a pattern, it hasn't been uncovered yet. Tatsumi is one of Meifu's shadow-casters, one of the workers in Heiseicho can bind spells to metalwork, and I believe Kinki District's junior member has some ability involving bringing drawings to life. Occasionally we'll get a telemental--Konoe-kacho has low-level empathy--although abilities that strong are usually manifested during life." 

"How do you know you have them?" 

"If an ability was latent in life, it often doesn't surface until the physical body is destroyed. One can go years without knowing of an ability, if the body was buried or hidden away after a murder." His voice hadn't changed in the slightest from its brisk tone, but a man who had been law enforcement in life learned to read postures and gazes, and Seiko's stance had gone faintly too still; his eyes had shuttered. 

"It's morbid," he went on, unaware of the scrutiny, "but one of the things we are permitted to do early on is be sure that our bodies are properly disposed of, if we can find and burn them without overtly interfering with anything in Chijou." 

Electing not to ask how all of this involved his partner, Terazuma pursued a different question. "So why does magic show up right away, and the other things not until the body's gone?" 

Seiko shrugged again, seeming to subtly relax. "Another question we don't have all the answers to," he said. "Most think that magic is an inherent part of the soul, and that powers manifested in life are remembered in death. Unearthed powers may remain locked in the body waiting to be discovered until its destruction springs them down the link, where the higher magic levels here make them far more likely to manifest." 

"There's a link even after the body's died?" 

"Astral projection and resurrection of the dead work on a similar principle, if in opposite directions. The link is far stronger in life; it would take an incredible willpower--far stronger than humans under nearly all circumstances possess--to return to the body after death, so that sort of resurrection must be performed by an outside party." 

Terazuma nodded slowly, filtering in the information. Seiko waved it aside. 

"In any case," he said, sitting down on another bench," the first thing you must learn is awareness of that magic, and then how to harness it. Flight is the simplest power to explore." 

Terazuma nodded against, straightening up attentively. 

"Close your eyes," Seiko instructed, "and take stock of yourself. Think of if as assessing yourself for wounds after a battle, or examining yourself in a mirror. Some think of it as listening to a symphony and trying to follow one particular instrument. Some prefer to imagine searching for one face in a multitude. Those who've had spiritual training sense it right away. You won't be so lucky, but whichever analogy works, the magic _is _there in you now." 

Terazuma listened to this for a moment, then tuned the man out, looking within himself. 

_It's like saying, "We can't tell you what it looks like, but you'll know it when you see it." Real freaking helpful._

Making the effort to restrain his temper, Terazuma knitted his brow, searching for _something. _But he felt no different than he always did, just more short-tempered than usual. 

"You're trying too hard," Seiko observed, watching him. "Let its awareness find you in its own time; just be attentive." 

Terazuma scowled, looking harder, even as he wondered how the hell he was supposed to quantify and define the supernatural. 

_Maybe I am trying too hard... _Frowning, he discarded the metaphors his teacher has provided, mulling over others more appropriate. _It's like equipment, right? Just something the job gives you. So..._

Nightstick. He touched a hand to his belt, where the length of wood always hung. Line. Handgun. Extra ammunition. Cigarettes. Lighter. Wallet. Keys. 

And there it was. As Seiko had said, simply an awareness of another tool. He could feel it like cold metal in his hands, and the knowledge of how to access it was there; a firearm he'd never used, and didn't know how to handle, but with an obvious trigger nonetheless. 

"Good," Seiko said with perceptible, if only barely so, tones of approval. "That's right." 

"That's--it?" Terazuma hazarded, unsure what he'd been expecting, but fairly certain it had been more dramatic than this. 

"Don't underestimate it," the other man returned sharply. "It will be the base of everything you do following this. I want you to concentrate on it. Much of this early training is very instinctual, and based on what your file says, I expect high performance from your instincts. Most magic is at its root an expulsion of force, be it speeding the healing process, powering the spells on ofuda, summonings and other spoken incantations, or anything else of that nature." 

_He's talking like a teacher again. _Terazuma kept his trap shut and listened. 

"For the most part, using magic is a simple matter of channeling. You feel the way to activate it, don't you? Then do so." 

Terazuma hesitated, remembering his weapons analogy, then curiosity won over his caution. Concentrating, he felt at the force for a moment, then-- 

--_there._

The shock of it flooding through him shook him like the staccato of rapid gunfire. It poured out of him, its force snapping at his hair, turning his nerves into a tangled mass of live wire, exhilarating to the very tips of his fingers, and when he gasped, it felt like a jumping spark from the crackling air to his dry mouth-- 

--and then it stopped, and he dropped to his knees (when had he stood?), panting, his hands trembling. 

The tops of well polished shoes moved into his field of vision; he looked up to see Seiko extricating his fingers from a complex position to brush back wind ruffled hair. In the other hand, he still held an ofuda, the edges of the sharp calligraphy glowing softly. 

"That," he said concisely, "is what magic is like without proper channeling. This time, I want you to be more prepared to harness it." 

Terazuma gaped at him and gasped out an incredulous curse. Seiko looked at him impassively and adjusted his glasses. "I have all night, Terazuma-kun. You, on the other hand, are going to need your rest." 

Terazuma gave another weak curse. 

Several hours later, he'd managed to master his magic enough that the simple triggering of it didn't completely unman him. Channeling it, he'd managed with a great deal of effort to rise a ragged few inches off the ground. 

"A small distance, but it's a start," Seiko allowed, standing back and releasing the ofuda, which crumpled and dissipated into ash as it drifted to the ground. He glanced at his watch, then flicked his gaze back to his new partner. "It's an hour yet before dinner, but you should rest before you try to move around a great deal, in any case." 

Feeling decidedly scorched around the edges, the younger shinigami manhandled himself back onto the bench, slumping over on his knees to catch his breath. "No argument here," he said unevenly. He wasn't sure he could walk straight, if at all. 

"Very well. Practice tonight, if you like, but you're expected in the office at eight tomorrow morning, so don't stay up all night." The man's voice was calm and matter-of-fact. Terazuma heaved a sigh and nodded wearily. 

"Very well, then. I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Higuchi-san," Terazuma cut in impulsively as he turned to leave. Seiko slanted a questioning glance over his shoulder. "How long have _you _been here?" 

His senior partner stilled, inspecting him closely. "I died in 1967," he answered finally. "I've been here ever since. Good evening, Terazuma-kun." 

And that, it seemed, was that. Breaking out his cigarettes, Terazuma spent a while sitting on the bench, staring into the pond, lost in thought and the persistent, irritating illogic of live fish in a ghost world's koi pond. 

The sound of female laughter broke him free of the absent-minded wondering if the fish could heal as well; he looked up as two people entered the garden through one of the vine-grown archways further away from the main building. 

The girl--in her early twenties, from her looks, with tumbling waves of shining brown hair and clothes only barely behind what Terazuma remembered as the latest style trend--noticed him first. 

"Hey," she heralded him, striding over confidently to give him a curious once-over. "I haven't seen you around; are you new?" 

She was followed by her companion, a young man with a friendly grin and clothing far more comfortably out of fashion (blue jeans; Terazuma had begun to wonder if they even existed in Meifu). "I heard Chuugoku's got a new one in," he put in. "Is that right?" 

Terazuma ground out his cigarette on the bench and nodded, standing--carefully--to greet them. "Terazuma Hajime," he responded, a shade cautiously. "You two're in Shokan too?" 

"Area Seven, Kanto District," the young man confirmed. "Taisencho's shinigami. I'm Yamagata Keiji." 

"Choshi Umeko," his partner added with a winning smile. "You really must be new; our case barely took us three days." 

"Just started today," Terazuma responded, hoping he wasn't in for another dose of newbie induction ceremonies; once in a man's life was more than enough for that sort of thing. 

"And that means..." 

"Magic lessons," Keiji finished, voice warm with sympathy, "_and _a miser's food allowance from Tatsumi-san. You must be starving." 

"You look beat. Why don't you come have dinner with us?" Umeko offered. 

Terazuma, whose pride was a bit ruffled as it was, looked wary. "I can pay for myself," he answered, a little more brusquely than he'd intended. 

They took no offense; the woman laughed again. "I hope so!" she exclaimed. "We don't make a much higher salary than you do." 

"We're just offering to show you where all the cheap restaurants are," the man next to her chuckled, "since you haven't been around long enough to know." 

Oh. Well, that was all right, then. The two proved true to their word about finding cheap but palatable food. The conversation proved equally enlightening. 

"We have to eat cheap food," Umeko confided over noodles. "We spend most of our money on other things." 

"Umeko-chan's the worst clothes horse I've ever met," her partner said teasingly. 

She tossed her hair, looking at him archly. "Says the one who scrimped every spare penny for three years so he could afford a car, even though he can fly." 

Keiji gave a skeptical Terazuma an abashed grin. "I grew up in the country," he explained. "I never really grew out of the fascination with cars." 

"What do other people spend it on?" Terazuma asked curiously, by now enough at ease to lounge back in the chair, legs out, arms crossed over his chest. 

The Kanto shinigami looked at each other. 

"Kiyoshi-kun makes jewelry, and Haruki-san's always taking people out on dates," Umeko counted off on her fingers. "Watari-kun's been saving up for something, and I think Jiro-san likes model ships." 

"And Saya-chan and Yuma-chan like clothes almost as much as you. It's anything we like to do in our spare time, really," Keiji added, nodding. "It can take a while to get your budgeting ironed out though, so don't spend too much at the beginning of the month." 

"Some people never get it," his partner threw in, grinning. "Tsuzuki-san's always bumming meals by the last week before we get paid." 

"Given the amount of pastries and sweets he eats, I'm not surprised," the young man quipped, then explained, "Tsuzuki-san's out on a case right now," the young man explained. "He works out in Kyushuu; it's usually pretty slow, so I'm sure you'll meet him soon." 

The youngest of them nodded, then asked straightened suddenly, remembering he had an errand to run. "Hey, what time is it?" 

"Getting towards eight, probably," Keiji answered with a glance out the window. 

Umeko rolled her eyes and checked a slim watch on her wrist. "Seven forty-nine," she confirmed. 

"I'm under orders to get an alarm clock before I turn in tonight," Terazuma said in thinly concealed annoyance. "So I need to get going." 

"You should just take ours," the female shinigami snorted. "Besides knowing what time it is by looking at the shadows, Keiji's up with the sun everyday. I haven't been late once since I partnered with him." 

"Best record in the department." Keiji grinned unrepentantly. "You can have the clock if you'd like, Terazuma-kun." 

"Thanks but no thanks," was the prompt reply. "I'll manage myself." 

They settled the bill quickly, then Terazuma bid the two good night and headed off. The alarm clock he managed fairly quickly, but finding the way back to his apartment took the better part of an hour. Once there, he spent a frustrating twenty minutes figuring out poorly written instructions on how to get the clock set, then slouched up the stairs to sit on the roof and think some more. 

_So this is it. You die, and then you get stuck in a crap desk job. Wonder why no one's ever thought of _that _before. _He sighed, closing his eyes and feeling the caress of a light breeze through his hair. _I guess we don't get a choice about it, _he thought moodily, staring out over the array of street lamps and lights still on in buildings. _Unless it's during the tests no one remembers anyway._

Frown tugging at his lips, he drew out a cigarette and his lighter, sitting in the minutes that followed at the center of the grey haze like a rather irritable dragon liable to snap at stray birds. As it burned slowly towards his fingers, he looked down at the streets below, seeing in the place of flat cement the deep black of rolling water. 

_What was she thinking, anyway? What's the point in dying? That's the last way to get things done.___

_Martyring is such bullshit._

Scowling to himself, he ground out his cigarette in a bitter tumble of glowing ash before it could scorch his knuckles, then stoodd up and reached within to the trigger for power. 

As before, it swept over him; he clenched his jaw stubbornly and clawed back at it, pulling it under his control. 

_Now... Up. I want to go up. _He felt the force surround him, but too weakly, thin strands of power lifting him. "_Up, _I said," he repeated aloud, forcefully, an emphasis that seemed to have little effect on anything save his temper. In the end, he had to be satisfied with a slightly steadier few inches lift than he'd attained back in the garden. 

He went to bed and dreamed of koi fish flying in a sky as black as the sea. 

* * *

I keep having to smack Seiko back into his role as emotionally unapproachable and with all the sense of humor of a stale radish. He's trying--I think he's trying to be Tatsumi. BAD stick in the mud, bad! You get your character development side story later! 

As the hints dropped would imply, yes, I made up shinigami for all ten departments who don't have some for this time period canonically. I don't know how many of them will show up yet, but we'll see. 

Next chapter: I'm not entirely sure yet. Probably Terazuma's power awakening, possibly while out on a case--if so, expect Watari. 


End file.
